Speak of the Devil
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Heyes and the Kid are confronted with the realities of their crimes in a very personal way.


"I'll see you and raise you two bits," said Hannibal Heyes, reaching across the scarred, wooden table and tossing a few coins into the paltry ante. The clatter of glasses sounded in the background cutting through the smoky atmosphere of the crowded saloon.

"Fold," said Kid Curry, sitting to Heyes' right. He put his cards down and leaned back in his chair to watch the hand play out.

"I'm done," said the red-haired man in the worn dark suit. "I've got customers to see." This last caused a soft, uncomfortable chuckle from the fourth player, a young cowboy. The red-haired man was the town's undertaker; he stood up, tipped his hat, and drifted out of the building.

"I'll see that two bits and raise a dollar," said the cowboy clutching his cards as though they were his only lifeline. He was scowling at Heyes and ignoring Curry's benign stare.

"Call," said Heyes. He kicked his partner's foot under the table and nodded surreptitiously towards the swinging saloon doors where a big, gray-haired, grizzled man had just entered as the undertaker left. Pinned to the man's chest was a tarnished gold star. Heyes watched as the man crossed to the bar and started a conversation with another man standing there. Relieved, his attention returned to the game.

"I got me a straight," said the youngster, grinning from ear to ear and laying his cards on the table. He'd just doubled a month's pay and he was already dreaming of spending it upstairs with one of the calico queens.

Heyes smiled blandly at the boy. "Full house, jacks and eights." He put his cards down knowing what was likely to come next. Cowboys were mostly bad poker players and sore losers.

"$#&!" roared the young man, jumping to his feet and upsetting the table. Curry rose at the same time, his right hand suspended next to his holster; his cold, blue eyes locked on the cowboy. The boy glared at Heyes with undisguised anger and reached for his gun, but a hand snaked out and clamped down on his wrist, wrenching his arm behind his back. With practiced ease, the big sheriff deftly handcuffed the boy.

Curry settled his Colt back into its holster and dropped his hand to his side. No one, except for Heyes', had seen him start to draw. All eyes were on the sheriff.

"Eddie, I told you 'bout startin' another fight in my town," said the sheriff. "Walt, come take Eddie to the lockup. We're gonna give 'im a coupla days to cool his heels."

The man at the bar came over and seized Eddie by his arm. "Sure thing, Cord," he said, dragging the young cowboy from the saloon. Warm blue eyes and a tin star turned to the two ex-outlaws.

Heyes and the Kid gave each other a quick glance and then smiled ingratiatingly at the bigger man before them. "Cord? You wouldn't be Cord Gifford by any chance?" asked Heyes, keeping his voice friendly while his heart froze in his chest.

"I am and who would you two be?"

"I'm Joshua Smith and this here's my partner, Thaddeus." Heyes deliberately left off the last part of the Kid's alias. Smith and Jones in one sentence was a tip off to any lawman with a few brain cells and Cord Gifford was known to have more than a few. He was also known as the former sheriff of Bradford Junction, Colorado, where the Devil's Hole gang had robbed the local bank back in '77.

Fortunately, the two ex-outlaws had never laid eyes on this particular lawman as it had been an extremely successful night job. Heyes had manipulated the safe in record time and the gang had been in and out of town before anyone had known they were there.

"So, Joshua and Thaddeus, what brings you to Rustic?" Gifford pulled out a chair and settled himself in it, eyeing the tied-down gun on the Kid's hip.

Heyes was all smiles and congeniality. Curry less so. He tried to force a smile on his face, but settled for a neutral expression. It was the best he could do. He reluctantly sat back down at the table.

"We're just passing through, Sheriff," said Heyes. "We ran some cattle down here for Jim Beck up in Tie Siding and now we're just resting a spell before looking for work."

"You two don't look like cowboys," said Gifford, pointedly.

"We don't cowboy much if we can help it," admitted Curry.

Gifford leaned back in his chair and smiled at them. "So what is it you usually do to put grub on the table?"

"Anything that's not too hard on the back." Heyes laughed, and beckoned the bar girl over. "Whiskey, Sheriff?" He'd noticed the finely broken blood vessels decorating the man's nose, a sure sign of a long familiarity with cheap tongue oil.

Taking off his hat and hooking it on the ladder-backed chair, Gifford smiled and licked his lips, "Sure, if'n you're buyin', I'm drinkin'."

A couple of drinks later, the tension had bled out of all three men and they were now on a first name basis. Heyes found himself enjoying the sheriff's company. The man was smart, friendly, and told some wild yarns. Swapping tall tales was Heyes' specialty and he'd warmed to the task an hour ago, thoroughly charming his new-found friend. Even the Kid was grinning by now. If the sheriff had recognized them, they would already be in jail. But the man's next question put the fear back in Heyes' soul.

"So, how'd you boys know who I was? Hell, Bradford Junction was just a wide speck in the road in those days," asked Cord.

"We passed there once on the stage," said Heyes.

"When?" The smile fled Cord's face and he scowled, taking a big slug of his third whiskey.

"I think it was '78, might've been earlier or later. Why?" Heyes sipped his drink. He was still nursing his second, being careful not to cloud his own judgment.

"If'n you was through there in '78, I guess you'd know why," growled Cord.

"Cord, if I said something to offend you, I'm real sorry." Heyes reached out and put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. He had no idea what had irritated the man.

The sheriff looked at him speculatively but saw only earnestness in the brown eyes that stared back at him. He relaxed. "Aw, hell, you might as well know, half the folks in these parts do. I was fired in '77 right after the Devil's Hole gang wiped out the bank. Townfolks blamed me for not stoppin' them."

"That don't seem fair. From the way I hear it, those boys could steal the bible from a preacher's hand on a Sunday morning." Heyes tossed back the remainder of his drink and signaled the barmaid to bring another round; he was going to need it. The Kid nearly choked on his own drink, but hid it well.

"It weren't fair, but that didn't matter none to them," said Cord bitterly. "You see, my wife was havin' a baby at the time and I was pacin' the floor when those varmints pulled that job."

"So how come you got the boot?" asked the Kid.

"The deputy I picked fell asleep on the job; didn't make his rounds that night. Guess I was lucky in hindsight; he got tarred for his part in it."

The barmaid set three more whiskeys on the table and tucked the bill Heyes handed her into her bodice. She took the empties and smiled seductively at the Kid as she left. Heyes handed around the filled glasses. "Nice town."

"It was a nice town, but losin' everythin' don't set well with hardworkin' folks and they needed someone to blame. They chose me." Cord lapped his whiskey and smiled ruefully. "Slick as grease it was. No one even knew we'd been robbed 'til day broke, but then it was plain who'd done it. Only Heyes could've opened that safe without blowin' it. Anyway, by the time I knew who to look for those longriders were across the border and headed for home. They sure threw a spoke in my wheel, though. Lost my job and our home the same day I became a daddy. Had trouble findin' work after that," he shrugged. "Weren't long before the wife left me and took the baby. Can't say as I blame her; I weren't much company back then. See, I was obsessed with running those owl hoots, Heyes and Curry, to ground. It was all I could talk or think about. I dragged my family from town to town on the promise of lookin' for work, but I was really lookin' for them. I couldn't let it go, not even for her, and she knew it. We used to fight something terrible. I took to the drink 'round then and that was the final nail in my coffin. Came home one evening and they was gone with nary a fare-thee-well. Now it's bottled courage that keeps me warm at night."

Heyes cleared his throat. Years ago, he wouldn't have given a thought to the consequences of his actions, but now he understood what it meant to scrape out a living and to go hungry when you didn't have two thin dimes to rub together. How could they have been so stupid as to think they'd never harmed anyone? Just because they didn't resort to violence didn't mean no one was hurt.

While Heyes felt a momentary flush of shame for the havoc he'd wrought in this man's life, at the same time he needed to steer the conversation onto safer soil. "I heard those two gave up outlawing a while back. No one's seen nor heard from them in a long time. That true?"

"Don't know. I quit lookin'. Doggin' those two took every damned thing worth livin' for from me."

"You gave up?" Heyes ignored the poke in the ribs his partner gave him.

"Had to; but it was for the best, I never did have much to go on. The wanted posters on those two weren't worth the paper they was printed on. Word is, Heyes and Curry quit the gang and dropped out of sight; probably moved onto greener pastures is all. Maybe changed their names. Wouldn't be too hard to disappear in these parts."

Curry squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable with how close to home Cord was coming.

"I can tell you one thing, if I run across those two there's gonna be hell to pay."

"I believe you," said Heyes softly.

"Joshua, shouldn't we be goin'? If we're gonna make it to Fort Collins tomorrow, we'll have to hit the trail early." The Kid wanted out of there: now.

"Right," said Heyes, standing up and holding out his hand to the sheriff. "Good luck to you, Cord."

The sheriff took the ex-outlaw leader's smaller paw, shaking it enthusiastically. "Pleasure meetin' you boys; stop by the next time you're in town." He'd enjoyed their company and was sorry to see the evening end. His drinking companions left and he finished his drink slowly, savoring every burning sip for the pain it obscured in his heart.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Heyes?"

"Hmmm?" The partners had hurried out of town as quickly as possible without speaking a word; both of them lost in their own thoughts.

"How many more folks do you think we hurt outlawin'?"

Heyes didn't know how to reply to that. He knew damned well they'd hurt a lot. He rode along silently for several minutes before saying, "I can't tell you how many; too many to count."

"We don't really deserve amnesty, do we? Maybe that's why we ain't got it yet."

"Maybe we'll never get it, but we're not going to give up."

"Maybe we should. Maybe we oughta disappear like Cord said. Nobody'd miss us."

Heyes pulled his horse up, turning toward his best friend. "No, we ain't gonna up and leave. We're seeing this through."

"Why?"

"Because we can't change what we've done; we can only change what we're gonna do from here on out. The amnesty will give us a chance to be better men."

"And if we don't get it?"

"Then Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones keep on helping folks as best they can. It's the least we can do."

The Kid nodded his agreement and the two riders resumed their journey.


End file.
